Professor Layton and the Mysterious Invitation
by The Lilac Pilgrim
Summary: Professor Layton is sent an invitation to a masquerade ball, but he is sure he doesn't know the sender and he cannot attend. However, something happens to the professor which worries his apprentice. Will Layton solve the puzzle before it is too late?


It was a quiet, miserable day in London. The skies were dark; rain poured relentlessly down on the rooftops and the streets were paved with water, though unlike Venice, this fact made the entire city look terribly gloomy. For those inside, the rain clattered against the windows so loudly, that any music or television was difficult to hear, and conversation consisted mainly of undue astonishment over how loud and copious the rain was that particular afternoon.

If you were standing outside and staring up at the rain-glazed windows, you might have been able to see within a small child, wearing a blue cap, his hands supporting a lolling head as he likewise stared down into the soggy street. He was bored, and though it was dry inside, he wondered absently whether it would be more fun to be outside in the cold, getting completely soaked. At this thought, he sighed deeply, causing the window to steam up.

"Luke, don't breathe on the window," came a firm but good-humoured warning from beside him. He looked around languidly to see the professor holding a stack of letters. With a gentle smile, he handed the boy an envelope. Luke accepted it, brightening up when he realised it was from his pen pal. His carer's smile seemed to grow wider at this, and he turned away to go sit at his desk with the rest of the letters.

Professor Hershel Layton was a terrific archaeologist. He was known worldwide for his work, although Luke suspected that he was just a little irritated by the fact that he was known not because of his prowess in archaeology. Instead, much of the world were far more interested in his favourite past-time; his love of puzzles. The professor had been solving puzzles previously thought unsolvable for many a year, and though he was always quick to remind people that he was not a detective, they would often call upon him to act as something of a Sherlock Holmes. Usually, he was far too polite to turn down a request, eager to put his brain to work on what he saw as essentially a large puzzle, but there were some he refused for the sake of keeping his job. Still, he always made time for puzzles, something he had imprinted on Luke as well. After all, what kind of apprentice would he be without a fondness for Layton's treasured puzzles? Grinning to himself, the boy opened his letter and began to read it aloud.

"Dear Luke," he spoke volubly, breaking the relative silence in the room. "That was quite an adventure you had! It makes me feel jealous that you get to spend so much time with the charming and admittedly handsome Professor --"

"Er, Luke, my boy," Layton interrupted promptly, a flush of uneasiness in his cheeks. "Perhaps some things are better kept between yourself and your pen friend."

"Huh? Oh… right you are, Professor." With a sheepish shrug of his shoulders, Luke turned away from the scholar and started again, this time into himself, to spare the professor some embarrassment. As he read his letter, Layton made his way through the stack of letters that had come through that morning. He had already opened two of them - both congratulating him on solving their last case. He put those aside for later, planning on writing letters of thanks, as any gentleman should. The third letter - or rather, package - he would open with great care. It was stamped all over with various proclamations of importance, and he didn't want to damage whatever was inside. It didn't help, however, that the padded envelope seemed to be superglued shut - even his letter opener wasn't doing the trick. Very rapidly, he was losing his propriety; he began to struggle against the diabolical brown paper, his chair tilting back dangerously as he fought to retrieve the item he had been sent. His young charge looked up as his fight became one of life or death, and in alarm cried out.

"Professor, be careful!" he yelled urgently. But it turned out to have been a bad idea to do so, as it only served to startle him. Layton jumped upon hearing the warning, finally tipping his chair over. He fell backwards, arms flailing in a mad attempt to grab onto something before he toppled onto the ground, his shoulders hitting the wooden floor with a smack. His head followed and a worryingly loud _crack _sounded through the room. Luke scrambled over to him, anxious that the professor had seriously hurt himself. Softly, but urgently, he shook the gentleman's shoulder.

"Professor, are you alright?" he asked, leaning over him, eyes wide as saucers. Dazedly, Layton looked back at him, the envelope still in hand. Slowly, he sat up, and the boy moved away to give him space.

"Yes; yes, I'm quite alright," he said, rubbing the back of his head, smiling bravely. "I suppose what I should have done was find a pair of scissors to open the envelope. That was incredibly foolish of me." He stood up then and paused before adding as an afterthought: "I hope _you've_ learned from this as _I_ have, Luke."

"Oh yes, professor," Luke responded in a tight-lipped fashion. "Be prepared with a crash mat when opening letters."

The scholar shot a sideways glance at the boy before electing not to pay attention to the comment and continued his pursuit of a pair of scissors with which to open the package. Searching around in his desk drawer, his fingers brushed against the sharp metallic edge of the item he was looking for, and carefully, he pulled the scissors out by the blades. With a careful snip the envelope was opened. Inside the envelope was a beautiful, but mysterious item which he tipped out into the palm of his hand.

Made of silver, hanging from a long, fine chain, it was surprisingly heavy. It was a locket, plain and simple, but shining and well-kept, its surface like that of a mirror. He couldn't understand why he had been sent such a beautiful and quite probably expensive item. Luke stared at the gleaming locket with quiet awe.

"Who sent you it, Professor?" he asked in a whisper, able to see his reflection in the item. Layton placed it delicately in a keepsake box on the other side of the room where he was sure it would be safe before returning for the envelope. He smiled upon seeing a small piece of paper inside, calligraphy paper if his memory served him correctly.

"Well, Luke," he said, unfolding the small note. "I'm about to find out."

The note was very pretty indeed, certainly calligraphy artistry, and appeared to be a sort of invitation. He read it aloud;

"_Lady P. Chesterfield_

_Requests the pleasure of your company_

_At a Masquerade Ball_

_This Saturday evening_

_At Foxglove Manor in_

_The town of Paverton_

_No R.S.V.P. necessary_

_Be sure to wear your gift."_

Both stayed silent for a moment, trying to fathom why exactly this had been sent to the professor. Layton was certain that neither of them knew a Lady Chesterfield, and he had definitely never visited Paverton, wherever it was. It was Luke who broke the uncomfortable silence.

"What does it mean by 'No RSVP necessary'?" he questioned, his gaze fixed upon the locket, which seemed to shine unnaturally brightly in the dimly lit room. The professor shrugged slightly as he moved to sit down.

"I assume it means that this Lady Chesterfield is expecting the recipient to attend," he guessed, reaching for a pen. "Despite any scheduling conflicts. Or perhaps she doesn't expect her recipients to have conflicts. At any rate, we cannot attend; we have a meeting at Cambridge."

Just as his fingertips touched the pen, however, there was a sudden moment of complete blackness experienced by both during which there was nothing but a sensation of nausea. When it was over, Layton was slumped over his desk, completely motionless. Luke recovered quickly from the sudden bout of sickness as he rushed over to his mentor and shook him harshly.

"Professor!" he yelped, worried by the lack of response. "Professor! Wake up, Professor!"

Letting out a groan, Layton lifted his head wearily from the desk, looking pale and worse for wear. With difficulty he rose to full height, adjusting his hat and jacket as he did. His apprentice watched him, prepared to steady him if he needed it.

"Are you alright?" he asked anxiously, noticing a slight wobble to the professor's movements.

"I… yes, yes, of course I am," Layton insisted, a hand at his temple. "I'm just a little dizzy from the fall. Perhaps I should… retire to my room."

As he moved towards the door and past his protégé, Luke couldn't help but notice a glint of light on the professor's chest. His eyes drawn to it, he followed it until he could no longer see it, trying to figure out what it could be. Just as the professor closed the door on his way out, the boy realised what it was, but it was an idea so ridiculous that he had to check the keepsake box to be sure. He wasn't in the habit of searching through Layton's things; he had at least been taught the most basic of etiquette, but he had to prove himself wrong. He moved over to the shelf on which the box was kept, just a small, but magnificently hand-carved wooden box. It wasn't right to snoop, he knew, but curiosity was more powerful than his restraint. Cautiously, he removed the lid and peered inside, being careful not to move anything in case the professor opened it later and found that he had touched the box without permission. What he saw, or rather, didn't see, confirmed the boy's suspicions. The locket was no longer inside.


End file.
